Taming The Beast
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: The branding was not Jack's only nasty preCotBP encounter with Cutler Beckett.  Inspired by Justawench's fanart, 'Gaol'. PG13 for adult themes, unrequited slash. The fifth and final chapter is now up.
1. Chapter 1

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

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_This story was inspired by a piece of fanart- Justawench's excellent photomanip 'Gaol', posted at Livejournal (I would include a link but apparently that's not allowed.)_

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Cutler Beckett was at his office desk, tending to the usual paperwork, feeling triumphant. Buoyed by the knowledge that, within these fortress walls, a long-sought fugitive was awaiting his pleasure.

Between signatures, Beckett's thoughts strayed to the particulars of yesterday's conversation with the man. A conversation which had ended abruptly, as he'd turned the captive over to Mr. Mercer. With instructions. Undoubtedly, the wretch would be far more subdued during today's negotiations.

The most urgent paper stack was completed. Beckett set down his pen, one hand stroked his chin, as his memory stretched further back. Recalling an exquisite, anxious face, lit by the crimson glow of hot metal. Cutler had refrained from branding the offender on the forehead, out of consideration for his youth, he'd said. But late that evening, with that fire-lit visage still haunting his mind's eye, Beckett admitted he might have had other reasons for limiting the disfiguration. Far more selfish ones.

Not that he'd had any chance to pursue them, before being awakened by a soldier reporting the prisoner's escape. Beckett fully intended to make up for that, now that he once again had the reprobate in his custody.

There was a knock on the door- a distinct fast rap. "Come in, Mercer."

Beckett's hard-eyed clerk entered. Without preamble, Beckett asked, "So, what of Sparrow?"

"Softened as per your orders, sir."

"How well did he hold up?"

"Average."

"No better than that?" Beckett sounded disappointed.

Mercer shrugged indifferently. "I wasn't attempting to extract information from him. Just making it clear to him that our intent is entirely serious."

"As I did request. I assume he's now in the gaol?"

"He is. I have seven company agents keeping watch."

Beckett gave his pen a quick cleaning, before rising to his full, unimpressive height. "I believe I shall go see him."

A corner of Mercer's mouth quirked. "That you will, Mr. Beckett."

x

Cutler made his way down the brown brick corridor, making no acknowledgment of the company guards he passed. The usual large, dull, unsqueamish men, those. His attention was entirely focused on the slender occupant of one narrow cell.

Jack Sparrow was seated close against the bars, staring towards the gaol's one window. Though set too deep in the wall to provide a view, that opening did let in the occasional ocean-scented breeze. Sparrow was probably trying to catch a whiff of it.

The prisoner turned his head towards the approaching steps. Upon recognizing Beckett, he immediately looked to the floor.

Jack was unclothed, save for the alluring crimson head scarf and hair ornaments (it was Beckett's own order that he be permitted to retain those.) A black iron collar encircled his neck, from which a short chain hung, connecting to the wide shackles around his wrists. Heavy dark chains, of the sort used to restrain newly-caught slaves.

All part of Mercer's method, of course. The weight on Sparrow's neck and wrists provided a constant reminder of his captive status, as his nudity would impart an inescapable sense of vulnerability.

Beckett drew near. Jack stayed as he was, making no useless effort to cover himself, keeping his gaze down. But his sense of humiliation was betrayed by the red flush on his cheeks- an effect pleasingly similar to the branding iron's glow.

Cutler halted before the bars, eyeing his prisoner for a minute before speaking. "It's time to resume our discussion, Jack. Have you given any further thought, to my offer of reemployment?" The pirate did not respond, beyond a tightening of his jaw. "Not so fast to refuse as you were yesterday, I see- Mr. Mercer's attentions frequently have that result. As I'm sure you noticed, he's a master at inflicting maximum, discomfort, whilst doing minimum physical damage. This process could theoretically continue for days, or weeks, without endangering your life. Though, if you continue to be so stubborn, you may end up wishing it would."

Jack shifted a bit, but remained silent. Beckett happened to notice something; the 'P' on Sparrow's right wrist was inflamed red, the raised white scar tissue having been sliced off. No doubt the work of Mercer's blade. The man had an uncanny knack for discerning exactly what would cause a subject the most acute pain.

For some seconds, Beckett let his eyes wander further over the prisoner's body, noting the abundance of other irregularities. Tattoos, scars... bullet holes? So much fascinating skin, close enough to touch...

Beckett sternly restrained his gaze. This distraction must be mastered- he had a task to accomplish here. The rewards, he knew, would follow afterwards. Looking to Jack's lowered face, Cutler continued.

"Just for clarity's sake, let us review your situation once again. You have been living a vagabond existence, without social standing or permanent residence. No ship of your own anymore, nor any realistic chance of acquiring one, since you are without family, funds, or connections. You have only your overvalued 'freedom', and even that is precarious at best. You can never be sure whether the next crew you sign on with might recognize you, and turn you in for the bounty. Indeed, that scenario accounts for your current incarceration." Cutler did not fail to notice Jack's hands balling into fists. "But I can provide another option. Secure employment with the East India Trade Company, pardon for your previous crimes, command of a company ship, a steady income. And all I require of you is a more tractable attitude."

At that, Jack's darkly flashing eyes did rise to meet his captor's. "I have no patience fer such euphemisms, Beckett. Call it what it is; you intend ta make me yer bloody concubine."

"Only between assignments. At all other times you'll be allowed to pursue that seafaring life you so enjoyed, prior to losing your ship to mutineers, differing only in that you'll be required to operate within legal parameters." Beckett added, "I can assure you I do understand the value of discretion, as does all my personal staff. Our onshore arrangements will not be made common knowledge."

"But I'll know about 'em, won't I?" Jack's blush was gone. He had something to focus on now, beyond the highly disagreeable circumstance of being bound and naked in the presence of an enemy.

Beckett continued his reasonable arguments. "There's many a sailor- less impoverished than you- who would gladly pay that price, or more, for what I'm offering."

Jack waved his hands a bit in their chains. "Well, then why don't ye shanghai said poor sailor, an' make yer offer ta him?"

Beckett's expression darkened. "I am not retreading this ground, Sparrow."

Jack was actually a bit tired of that subject, too. Particularly since he was quite sure he already knew the motive behind Beckett's special interest in him.

/ _It's fer the same reason you prefer ta acquire untamed horses anу break 'em yourself, rather 'en buyin' a nag that's already gentle under the saddle. The challenge of bending another to your will is what appeals to you- the more resistance to overcome, the better! You see me as a Wild Beast, what happened ta catch yer fancy the day you branded me... declared me a pirate, outside the protection of any law. A safe target fer any unwanted attentions. But I got away, before you'd done more 'en mark me, so you've been yearnin' ta possess me ever since._

/ _Sorry to disappoint, but I don't plan on remainin' in yer clutch much longer, you sawed-off git._ /

Though Jack was careful not to let his contempt show, Beckett still frowned. Stepping closer, he intoned, "My patience is not without limits, pirate. You do realize it's well within my power to take whatever I want from you, and give you nothing in exchange."

Jack twitched, but kept his tone level. "That's not yer preference, mate, or you'd have done it already."

"It is, as you say, not my first choice. Because I also desire command over your considerable captaining skills, and the profit they can earn for this Company. It's simply good business for me to try to keep resentments between us to a minimum."

The fine eyebrows jumped incredulously. "Have ya not considered that handin' me over to yer trained hyena could also produce hard feelin'?"

"Mercer has done very slight harm to you, compared to what he's capable of. Let me be entirely clear on this, Sparrow; your life, your health, your very sanity, are entirely at my mercy. The sooner you acknowledge this as a reality to be dealt with, the better your chances of retaining any of them." His tone softened. "You should also understand, this does not have to be a one-sided deal. I can be quite generous to those who serve me well."

The pirate's mouth thinned. He could be on the verge of gaining the one thing he needed, before he could enact his escape plan. But he must maneuver carefully- everything depended on Beckett's perceiving the idea as (at least partially) his own.

Jack turned his head a bit, beads clacking against the metal ring, giving the EITC man a sideways glance. Suggesting he'd like to believe him.

Beckett smiled- it was an easy matter, to convince people of what they wanted to be true. "Is it really so difficult to believe I can be kind, Jack?" The prisoner appeared uncertain. "Perhaps I could provide a demonstration. Is there anything you'd like me to do for you, here and now?"

/ _A chance! _/ With feigned hesitancy, Jack's hand crept up to the hard band encircling his neck. "I would be appreciative if you'd take this thing off me. It's bloody uncomfortable, an' theer's absolutely no need fer it inside o' this cell."

Cutler looked thoughtful. A small bargain could be a step towards gaining the larger prize. And, he was tired of denying himself entirely.

"I will do that, if, in return, you'll allow me an inspection." At Jack's alarmed stare, Beckett reassured, "Nothing overly intrusive- I only want to take a close look at you. Cooperate, and I'll have the guards remove those chains. You have my word." In a lower voice he added, "Or, you can keep them on. Quid pro quo, Jack. You already know that's how the world works."

Part of Jack's mind rejoiced at his success, while another cringed at the price he'd have to pay. / _But it's less than 'e could've demanded. You never expected ta get out of here completely untouched, did you? Just close your eyes an' pretend it's a bad dream._ / He wavered a moment, averting his eyes, before giving a single sharp nod.

"Are you agreeing to my proposal?"

"We have an accord. You'll understand why I don't offer ta shake on it." Jack lifted his arms the short distance allowed by his bindings.

Beckett stepped back from the bars, giving a hand signal to the two nearest guards. Knowing the procedure, one positioned himself outside, pistol drawn. The other unlocked the door, grasped the inmate's arm, escorted him to the widest portion of the cell. Beckett grinned in predatory anticipation, as he removed his jacket and hung it from a hook in the corridor. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he entered the cell.

The guard's two beefy fists were firmly clamped on the links closest to the prisoner's wrists. Jack stood tense, head half-bowed- not the very picture of submission, but probably the best Beckett could expect, at this stage.

"Don't move." Beckett parted the thick curtain of hair and pushed it forward, gaining an unobstructed view of Jack's back. Lean, honey-dark, lash-crossed. He set his hands on the narrow shoulders and started down, feeling the other's vague shudder. Less sternly, Beckett added, "I've no intention of hurting you. This is just to slake my curiosity."

Mindful of that earlier blush, and knowing that effective taming was a gradual process, Beckett started conducting the type of examination he might give to a potential livestock purchase. Checking the circumferences of limbs and torso, probing muscle and sinew, inspecting the facial features. Stroking that impressive mane, that fine jaw and throat. Fingering the many interesting marks on the skin- Mercer's were fresh, most were far older. Chronicles of an uncommonly eventful life.

The guard moved aside, or turned his charge as indicated, but never relinquished his hold. Jack kept his eyes shut the whole while- occasionally he flinched, or caught his breath, but controlled the urge to squirm away. He came close to doing so towards the end, when, allowing himself a purely sensual indulgence, his captor leaned close against his back, hands wandering leisurely over Jack's chest and sides.

Beckett brushed dredlocks aside from one ear, spoke gently. "My clerk is scheduled to have another session with you, in about four hours. I suggest you spend the time considering whose touch is really more objectionable; Mercer's or mine." His lips brushed the earlobe. "Let one of the guards know when you're ready to speak with me."

With some reluctance, he let go and stepped from the cell. "Remove his chains." Cutler heard the metallic clanks, as he set about putting his jacket back on. By the time he turned, the guard had re-locked the door and was hanging the neck band on a vacant peg.

Beckett took a last appreciative look at the man in the cell. Jack stood, leaning slightly backwards, both hands moving on the nape of his neck. Arms gracefully flexed, eyelids half-lowered, lips curved in a small, relieved smile.

To his captor's eye, the pirate had never looked quite so beautiful.

x

Beckett returned to his office, his expectations high. But after three hours of uninterrupted paperwork he wondered if Jack was delaying just to be dramatic, or was genuinely reckless.

Well into the fourth hour, a third possibility suddenly occurred to him.

So minutes later, when an agitated Mercer burst in, Beckett was not utterly surprised at the news. He listened, glowering, to his underling's account- Jack had somehow picked the lock, knocked out a guard & taken his uniform, and was now nowhere to be found. It was possible he'd gotten out of the fortress by way of the drainage system. Once outside, in the residential area, it would be easy for the fugitive to steal a change of clothes- he could be disguised as anything by now.

Mercer concluded his report with a recommendation that they post a watch on all the docks, to inspect outgoing cargo and passengers. Beckett issued the order, though with no real hope of results. Once out of actual sight Jack Sparrow could be as damned elusive as his avian namesake.

As Mercer left, Beckett stalked to his window to glare at the ocean view. Once again, that despicable, maddening, lovely Wild Beast was somewhere out there. Recalling his last glimpse of the pirate's face, Beckett bristled, understanding the meaning of that satisfied smirk. His only consolation was his gut certainty that someday, somewhere, he'd have Jack in his power again.

Beckett sullenly scanned the tumbled clouds along the horizon. "Enjoy your freedom while you can, Sparrow. This world is shrinking- it's only a matter of time before I catch up with you..."

His voice trailed off as he spotted something. One of those clouds did not look like a cloud. By some odd chance, the wind currents had sculpted it into a shape remarkably similar to a rearing horse.

Beckett blinked, but the shape remained. One he supposed he'd always remember. He noticed another detail, above the phantom animal's back; a long trailing streamer, suggesting a broken tether line...

x

A few miles out to sea, safely ensconced in a partly-canvased longboat aboard the frigate _Finlandia_, Jack Sparrow smiled as he contemplated that same singular image. A proud untamed creature, sporting a long matted mane and laughing dark eye, racing along the horizon.

Jack would never forget that sight, either.

xxx

**FINIS**


	2. Chapter 2

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

Will leaned heavily against the _Pearl's_ starboard railing, staring out over the unnatural sea. Every now and then a crew member passed by, usually without speaking. Tia's warning, about how they must soon find a way out of this place or be trapped forever, had darkened everybody's mood. Even under that prospect, Will's mind kept turning to another concern.

Steps sounded behind him, and the last man he currently wanted to see sauntered up alongside. "Afternoon, whelp."

The younger man forced himself to meet Jack's eye. "Weren't you still trying to figure out that map?"

"Aye. 'Thought it might help ta get away from it fer a few minutes." Jack addressed his own right shoulder. "Of course it makes sense. A fresh eye is more likely ta catch the thing previously missed."

Not particularly in the mood to deal this new quirk of Sparrow's, Will resumed studying the strange waters. Jack noticed his glum expression. "Ye look a bit troubled, mate. An' in a more personal way than our present untenable and precarious circumstances seem likely to account for."

It was easy to deceive without actually lying. "I've been talking with Elizabeth. Or trying to."

Sparrow's dark eye glinted as he settled forward, extending his arms over the rail. "Ah, the infamously unsmooth course of True Love. 'Fraid I can't help you with that, lad."

To Turner's relief, the pirate captain made no further inquiries regarding the younger man's unquiet state of mind. If he were to suspect the least part of what Will was actually brooding on...

_/ Escaping World's End won't be the end of my trials, or yours, Jack. Once we're back, it's my intention to deliver you to your enemies- to Lord Beckett, by way of Sao Feng- in exchange for your ship. Because I need it to catch the Flying Dutchman, and free my father._

_/ I never anticipated, when I made him that promise, what disreputable means I'd end up using. Virtually abandoning Elizabeth, for a start. And now planning a betrayal nearly as vile as the one you committed on me... Or is it, in fact, every bit as vile? Is what I'm doing any more excusable because I'm acting to help another while you were trying to make an uninvolved person pay your debt?_

_/ At the least Cutler's custody is likely to be less harsh than Davy Jones'. Even if you and Beckett do have a history. /_

Will hadn't consciously realized his eye was lingering on the raised P on Jack's wrist. But the owner of said wrist noticed. "What prompts yer interest in my brand, mate?"

Will hastened to cover himself. "Nothing important. I was, just recalling something Lord Beckett told me. He said the two of you had left your marks on each other."

"And yer curious ta know what my retaliating disfigurement was?"

"Somewhat. If you don't mind telling."

Jack smiled broadly. Whatever toll his time in the Locker had taken, it hadn't diminished his penchant for storytelling. Especially if the tale was about him.

"'Tis a different variety of mark altogether, that I inflicted upon His Shortness. An unhealing wound which can't be seen, but'll always be felt. On his most conspicuous, yet invisible, feature."

_/ Jack's definitely been pondering that map too long. /_ "Dare I ask what this 'conspicuous and invisible feature' is?"

"His pride, lad. I deliberately disobeyed his direct orders, an' never did proper penitence fer that offense. At least not to his way of thinkin'. The man's a controlling sod, being compelled to subjugate, or eliminate, whatever defies him. That's one reason he's so determined ta have me under his domination again, whether it be a privateer under his command or a prisoner in his custody. Whatever he can manage."

Will shifted uncomfortably. "You said that was one reason. So there's another?"

"There is. A bit less suitable fer public discussion." Jack shifted closer. "Though you wouldn't think it from the looks of 'im, Mr. Cutler Beckett is, in fact, subject to carnal desires. I know, havin' been the object of said desires since my first days in the EITC's employ. No mistake about it! Every time I was anywhere in his vicinity, the git'd be scrutinizing me. Usually from positions he thought I'd not notice- from the corners of his eyes, around the edges of barriers an' such. I imagine ya know what I mean."

Turner blinked. "He was, in love with you?"

"Love never had a thing to do with it, mate. I doubt the word exists in the man's vocabulary," Jack sniffed. "Lust, yes. The urge ta possess, definitely. Also curiosity about 'forbidden fruit'. I happen ta be everything blokes of his social caste are supposed ta consider unsuitable in a paramour: a scion of lower-class stock, a 'colored' half-gypsy, a male. All in a very pretty package."

Will bit his lower lip. _/ I shouldn't be surprised. I did notice that tone in Beckett's voice, when he spoke about you. /_

The pirate captain continued. "Of course I found it disconcerting, bein' the subject of a superior's 'improper interest'. But I figured I could cope with it so long as he confined himself ta just looking. In point of fact, I don't know whether it was ever Cutler's intent ta do more. That is, until I committed my Intolerable Insubordination, which is a tale unto itself. I actually witnessed the moment when he realized I was now fair game... when he was holdin' the branding iron in front of my face."

"Your face? But, he didn't brand you there!"

"Because he didn't care to uglify my comely visage- he had other plans fer it. Whatever it's location, that 'P' affected a profound change in my social status. I was no longer a citizen under the protection of the Crown; I was a despised outlaw. Comin' from a humble background yerself, you should understand the implications, lad. You know what sorts of abuses rich, connected men can get away with, so long as they only do 'em to lowly people."

Will's eyebrows drew together, then leapt in alarm. "Jack, you don't mean to say he...? Beckett didn't...?"

"... rape me?" Jack finished grimly. "No. But I knew it were a possibility, so I made sure he didn't get the chance. Within hours of bein' returned to my cell, I scarpered." By way of explanation, Sparrow added, "There are some advantages ta bein' my size, Will. Stockade guards tend ta be big gits, who don't always think ta keep watch on gaps what are too small fer themselves ta fit through. So, I fled respectable society an' entered the lower stratas of seafaring, where I began my career as a full-time pirate. An' managed to keep clear of Beckett's person, if not his awareness, for the next seven years."

Will did some quick calculating. "So, you encountered him again. Between the mutiny on the _Pearl_ and our first meeting in Port Royal."

"The answer is unhappily affirmative. Through those vagabond years I did enough pillagin' of EITC properties ta motivate theer placin' a sizable bounty on me head. Which is flattering to the reputation, but has practical disadvantages. As I came to appreciate when I signed onto a regrettably law-abiding merchant freighter whose First Mate recognized me. Bein' turned in fer the reward was bad enough. It was much worse luck ta be delivered to the Company outpost in Barbados under the command of Mr. Cutler Beckett. Very pleased he was ta see me again- his ardor for me hadn't diminished. Was, in fact, better defined, now that he'd had years to brood over missed opportunities.

"But not to fret, Will- at that point it wasn't his preference ta force the issue. Not directly, anyway. For a man of his outlook, it's far more satisfying to have yer coveted object acknowledge yer right to dominion. So he attempted to negotiate an arrangement: offering me pardon an' a command in the EITC fleet, on the condition that I fulfill certain extracurricular duties whenever I came into port. I declined his generous offer, of course, citing a number of irreconcilable differences in our priorities. Whereupon he instructed his thug, Mr. Mercer, to take me below and employ his 'considerable powers of persuasion' to make me reconsider. 'Nothing permanent or maiming- just make sure he understands how serious we are.' That was not an enjoyable evening." Sparrow glanced down for a moment, haunted and angry. Will felt distinctly unwell.

"Fortunately, it were also my last in the Company's safekeeping," Jack continued, more brightly. "I took my leave the next day- vanished under the noses of seven EITC agents, as you may have heard tell of." The pirate's smile didn't reach his eyes, indicating that escape hadn't been the light-hearted frolic his summary implied.

"And Beckett's been after you ever since," Will finished, rather hollowly.

"As he most likely shall be, fer as long as we're both drawin' breath. I'm a Wild Beast- it's his mission ta tame me, one way or another. 'Tis the only conclusion that'll close the prideful wound I mentioned."

"Do you think, if he ever caught you again, he would still prefer to negotiate?"

Jack sighed a bit. "I don't know, Will. The man's never been easy to predict. After all the damage I've caused to his financial interests, it's probable he'll be most gratified ta shoot me himself. Though, being business-minded, it's more likely he'll first try ta extract any useful information he thinks I might possess. An' maybe have me hauled into his chambers afterwards, to enjoy my pleasurable company. There's not much of anythin' I'd put past that sod."

Will sagged, letting his head hang over the railing._ / I really, really didn't need to know about this. /_

"Ah, poor William- have I offended yer sensibilities?"

"I just didn't realize... When I made that deal with Beckett, to track you down, he led me to believe he was only going to subject you to a forceful recruitment pitch."

"And so he would, given the chance. A very forceful pitch indeed!" Perceiving that Will was genuinely disturbed, Sparrow clapped the young man's shoulder. "Hey, don't ye be worryin' about ol' Jack, whelp. I can be elusive! I've slipped out of that halfpint's clutches twice before, _virgo intactus_... compared to how I came in, I mean. No reason ta assume me luck's run out yet."

Will grasped onto that. _/ You do have a knack for getting away- you'll probably manage it next time, too. I know you'll still be angry at me... maybe permanently. But you'll be okay. /_

Jack leaned back, stretching like a cat. "Anyway, we've both got more immediate problems. I really ought ta be takin' another gander at that map."

The Captain sauntered back to the chart table, leaving Will to contemplate the waters with a redoubled sense of guilt. He considered whether he would have agreed to Sao Feng's terms, if he'd known then what he did now.

He realized he would have- the obligation to his vow was still overriding. But it no longer felt like a scrupulously honorable undertaking. Nothing close to it.

_/ I really am just as weasely as Sparrow... What is my father going to think, when learns what price I've paid for his freedom? And made others pay? I can only hope he'll eventually forgive me, for the burden I'm loading onto us both._

_/ Because it's entirely for him, that I've become a true Pirate after all. /_

_xxx_

_TBC...  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

xxx

As he pulled on the oars, Jack let his gaze wander over the furrowed gunnels, the restless waves, the numerous distant ships. Anywhere but on the two authoritative figures facing him on the longboat bench, less than a yard away. They, of course, were exercising no such restraint- they'd been eyeing him gloatingly since he'd pushed this craft off from the sand spit. He could practically feel their two stares on him; one from cruel orbs set deep amidst tentacles, and the other... the other was even more unnerving. Having two virulent enemies this close was agitating Sparrow beyond his powers of concealment.

_/ Ah, but you don't want ta be concealin' it completely, do ye?/ reminded the small self on Jack's starboard shoulder. / Can't risk givin' 'em any hint that ya deliberately maneuvered yerself inta this circumstance, ta gain access to the 'Flying Dutchman', an' it's captain's heart. 'Cause ya know what'll happen if they suspect yer up ta somethin'- they'll likely clap ya in so many irons ya won't be able to stir hand nor foot! Make it rather hard ta... /_

The dialogue was interrupted by Davy Jones' snarl. "Faster, Sparra! Somma us have ships tah get ready."

"You must pardon me, gents- I'm not quite as young as Mr. Turner." But Jack did increase his efforts, moving with care to minimize the risk of straining any muscles. He needed to remain fully functional- there was no telling what kind of physical exertions his scheme might require. He'd already come perilously close to straining his back, tugging Jones' bloody heavy bucket to within stepping distance of the longboat.

Cutler Beckett's voice was far more patient, and considerably more chilling. "Ten degrees more to starboard, if you please, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, saw that that course was towards the _Flying Dutchman_. Jones immediately caught the implication.

"What, are yah plannin' tah row yourself to the_ Endeavour_, Beckett?"

"Certainly not. Sparrow is coming with me."

Jack froze in mid-stroke. Fortunately, neither of his captors noticed the lapse, being fully occupied with glaring at each other.

"He's tah serve aboard the _Dutchman_- yah agreed tah that!" Jones barked.

"And so he shall. Just as soon as he and I have concluded some unfinished business," Cutler countered icily.

"Yah got naw business that canna wait until he's done with the post-battle swabbin'- I'll be needin' evrra available hand for that job! Afterwards yah ken be borrowin' him from me whenever yah get the urge. Which I expect tah be frequent."

Jack averted his face to hide the brief flush._ / So much for your promise of discretion, Mr. Beckett. /_

The undersized Lord tapped delicate fingers against his chin. "Perhaps we ought to hear from every affected party. Be honest, Sparrow; with whom would you prefer to disembark?"

Both Jones and Cutler turned probing stares on their prisoner. It took effort not to squirm under that dangerous double scrutiny.

_/ Careful, Lad. If ya express any strong preference fer the 'Dutchman', they're liable to send ye to the Endeavour, out of sheer bloody-mindedness,/ _warned the Jack on his port shoulder.

_/ On the other hand, any professed eagerness fer Beckett's company is certain to raise suspicion,/_ countered the identical voice from his starboard side.

Jack lowered his eyes, rowing noisily, his agile mind racing. What was the best thing he could say, to swing the decision in his favor?

Beckett leaned forward, almost like a crouching panther. "Well, Sparrow? If this decision were up to you, what would you choose?"

Jack drew a breath. "I would follow Homer's advice."

For a second his captors looked puzzled. Cutler caught on first.

"Ah, yes- Scylla and Charybdis. When you must decide between the tentacled monster or the devouring maw..."

"... yah choose the former!" Davy pronounced, his facial extensions curling gleefully. "Yah can hardly argue with the classics, now can yah?"

Lord Beckett nodded, agreeable to having the matter decided by an ancient epic. "Very well. Then you may drop me off at the _Endeavour,_ Mr. Sparrow. Or shall I call you 'Odysseus'?"

"You'll call me whatever you want," Jack answered neutrally, as he adjusted the longboat's course.

Cutler turned to his subordinate. "I do have just one stipulation, Mr. Jones. This prisoner is to be confined to your brig until the conflict is concluded."

Jack's lips thinned- this was another unwelcome obstacle. Albeit one which should be easier to overcome.

"Aww. So yah don't want yer pretty new pet tah get hurt?" Davy sneered.

"That is one concern. Also, I am fully aware of the damages a 'loose cannon' can inflict during a battle. Even a small one." Beckett bestowed a frosty glare on Jack (who mused that His Lordship was hardly qualified to call him 'small.') "Those are my orders, Mr. Jones."

Davy's tentacles rippled with agitation, but he said no more. Jack was soon maneuvering the longboat against the _Endeavour's_ port side, where the marines had already lowered the jacob's ladder. Beckett grasped a rung and stood, then paused to take a searching look at the pirate. He set his free hand on the side of Sparrow's face- the captive feigned indifference, as those proprietary fingers moved over his cheekbone and jaw, slid down the side of his throat, snaked under his shirt to curl around his collarbone. "I am greatly looking forward to our next meeting, Jack."

The prisoner's face twitched from the effort of keeping his expression blank- that touch and purring tone were evoking disagreeable memories. And the sharp-toothed smile was disturbing under any circumstances._ / A devouring maw, indeed. /_

"Enough fondling- I've got a battle tah prepare for, even if yah don't!" Davy Jones grumbled.

Cutler gave one of Jack's braids a half-painful tug, before ascending into his ship. Jack pushed off forcefully, and commenced rowing towards the _Dutchman_.

The 'tentacled monster' leaned forwards, glowering as though he blamed Jack for this whole situation. "Just so ya know; I won't be including yer time in the brig towards the repayin' of yer debt. Which yer already late gettin' started on."

"I would have thought Mr. Turner's contribution would be an adequate compensation for the delay," Jack countered mildly.

"Well, think again! And anotha thing; I certainly won't be counting as service tah me, any interval yah spend pleasuring Beckett!"

Jack's face reddened again, but not with embarrassment. This was rage, hot and hard, such as he'd experienced in only a few previous situations. That Barbados dungeon. The night of Barbossa's mutiny. Watching his _Wicked Wench_ burn and sink.

Never, in any previous encounter, had Jack felt such intense hatred for Cutler Beckett. Not just for for his intent to reduce him- him, Captain Jack Sparrow! - to his personal plaything, but for making those plans known. And to Davy Jones, the one... being, on earth, who would most enjoy his humiliation! For a furious moment Sparrow wondered just how much detail Beckett had gone into... but there was no profit in following that speculation.

Only the near-prospect of vengeance calmed him down. Very soon now- mere hours- his enemies would be undone for good. He'd made Barbossa pay; he would make Beckett and Jones pay. But only if he mastered his tongue. His complacent keepers must have no reason to put him under special restraint.

Jack managed to nod humbly, before releasing his barely-restrained emotions against the oars. His passenger chuckled approvingly. "There- I knew yah could make proper speed if yah tried!"

Sparrow just kept rowing, his eyes hooded, as shadowed and dangerous as the darkening sky.

xxx

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney.

--

"Is that Sparrow, Sir?"

"Was there ever any doubt, Mr. Groves?"

It was only for purposes of confirmation that Lord Beckett was peering through a spyglass to identify the two people who had so improbably emerged from the dissipating maelstrom. Using a folded sail to soar clear of all constraints- of course that could only be Jack Sparrow. It hardly mattered whom the person clinging to him was. The Swann girl, Cutler supposed- that pirate was known to possess a chivalrous streak. Though it was hardly the characteristic foremost in Beckett's mind.

This latest escape, from the foundering Flying Dutchman, crystalized a decision Cutler had been wrestling with for days, ever since he'd witnessed Jack's equally improbable egress from the Endeavour. That urge to get away, to roam beyond the reach of any laws, was truly endemic to the rogue's nature. No threats, abuse, coercion, or bribes of any kind were going to change Captain Jack Sparrow.

The pounding rain had stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. Beckett stepped out from under the quarterdeck's overhang, to watch the progress of the now-descending sail. As the castaways splashed into the sea, the disengaged Black Pearl altered course to meet them. To judge from the distance, it would take several minutes for her to retrieve her captain. Beckett knew what he'd have to do, once Jack was back on board.

"Close distance on the Pearl, helmsman," Cutler instructed as he ascended the quarterdeck. He handed the spyglass to his aide. "Keep a watch on that ship- let me know when she picks up Sparrow."

"Yes Sir." Groves obediently peered through the instrument.

Cutler leaned against the rail, staring towards the 'Pearl', but he wasn't really seeing it anymore. A years-old scene was replaying in his mind; standing outside a familiar paddock, ruefully eyeing the occupant- a magnificent glistening-brown stallion, hobbled, sweating, neighing defiantly. Listening to the stablemaster's account, of the animal's consistent refusal to be broken to the saddle. The Lord of the estate had ordered the horse to be taken to the far ends of the pastures and shot. It was an ironclad rule in his stables; recalcitrant equines were to be put down. No exceptions were allowed, though some provoked more regret than others. Those beasts which had started out with great promise, or which were beautiful beyond all reason...

Beckett's memory shifted to another, oft-recalled image; Jack Sparrow in that Barbados gaol. Heroically nude, standing in that elegant arched-back pose he'd assumed right after being unchained. So open, vulnerable, almost serene... seemingly on the verge of submission. Of becoming Beckett's own.

An illusion, as it turned out- Sparrow had actually been anticipating his upcoming escape, enabled by the removal of his bindings. Beckett would never know how much of his misimpression was due to the pirate's deliberate subterfuge, and how much just the product of his own wistful thinking. But at least he'd retained that striking mental picture.

And of course Cutler remembered what had come just before. Many an evening since, he had allowed himself to relive every moment of it. Closely inspecting that sleek, restrained body, with the same light strokes he would use to accustom a skittish horse to his touch. Which, being assured of gentle treatment, would allow him more at the next encounter. And more, and more, until gentleness was no longer essential.

Beckett's hands twitched on the rail now, recalling the feel of the pirate's skin, unlike any other Cutler had handled. Exotically colored, smelling of spice and ocean spray, smooth and pliant between the punctuating scars... in certain places, surprisingly soft...

As always, the recollection ended with a sense of frustration. Comparable to what he'd experience upon viewing a richly laden banquet table, only to be told the feast was canceled. Or at least postponed until further notice, as he'd insisted to himself at the time.

And that insistence did seem to be vindicated, for recently Sparrow- betrayed by one of the few people he trusted- had indeed been returned to Beckett's custody. Taken aboard the EITC's own flagship, from which there was no rational chance of fleeing to anything other than the waves. Cutler had been so confident of the Endeavour's capacity to keep Jack secure, he'd instructed his guards to remove Jack's manacles upon to delivering him to the great cabin, just to impress on him the futility of resistance.

Ever the EITC man first, Beckett had opened their 'reunion' with attention to business concerns- to obtaining the information he required to crush the possible threat of the Brethren Court. That portion of the meeting had gone well. Having been informed what was wanted, Jack had given a hard look to the rows of small metal soldiers (no doubt recalling Mercer's familiarizing him with their function), and immediately started to deal. It had been both amusing and irksome to observe Jack's very distinctive manner of negotiating- the restless moving about the cabin, those ridiculous fluttering mannerisms, his complete disregard for property rights or personal space. That flamboyant rapscallion could be truly annoying. It was to give vent to his irritated state, as much as to remind Sparrow of his precarious situation, that Cutler had drawn his pistol and elucidated the advantages of killing him then and there.

Not that he'd seriously considered doing so- he'd needed the man alive to assist his efforts against the massed pirates. And, he still hoped to pursue his personal plans for this prisoner, once matters of business had been dealt with. Still, there was no denying the practicality of ridding his Company, and himself, of this troublesome outlaw... this half-bred, damnably alluring scalawag, whom Beckett so wanted to touch, to grasp, to possess.

Never more so, than that moment he'd been regarding Jack at gunpoint.

But the scoundrel's luck had held. Things slipped out of control aboard the captured pirate vessel, and Sparrow managed to get away, again. Employing an insane maneuver which, by all rights, should have bashed him against a yardarm, or flung him to a hard fall. Instead, it had landed Jack safely on the Pearl's stern, as though his precious ship had reached out to catch him (as some of the Endeavour's crewmen later muttered.)

To add injury to insult, he'd even contrived to puncture the flagship's mainmast. Listening to the great timber crack and collapse behind him, Beckett was forced to a regrettable conclusion; that exquisite renegade was incurably escape-prone.

And Jack's flight - literally! - from the Dutchman had cinched the conviction. This Wild Beast would never be tamed.

The diminutive Lord set his jaw. What could not be subdued, must be destroyed.

Groves spoke up. "The Black Pearl just took Sparrow aboard, Sir." Beckett turned his keen awareness back to the present, expecting the pirate vessel to now attempt a run for it.

/ That was a most entertaining spectacle you put on, Jack. But as an escape, it was a failure. Even your impressively fast ship has no chance of getting past my forces. /

To his surprise, though, Cutler saw the dark sails were being furled, leaving the Pearl dead in the water. "What are they waiting for?" Groves wondered.

"He expects us to honor our agreement!" Beckett realized. It seemed Sparrow's judgment had slipped, just when it would cost him most dearly. Lord Beckett could now easily accomplish what he wanted most; eliminate a major threat to EITC interests, and a longtime thorn in his own side.

Cutler gave the orders to close and attack, with no real regret. If the satisfaction of making the kill was the last thing he could wrest from Jack, he'd take what he could. Beckett pondered whether to order his crew to retrieve and imprison any survivors, or to shoot them in the water. He smiled cruelly, being quite sure which fate Sparrow would prefer.

"It's nothing personal, Jack..."

-

FINIS


	5. Chapter 5

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

The _Black Pearl_ heaved hard to starboard, adjusting course to run parallel with the _Flying Dutchman_. Both ships headed straight and fast towards their common foe.

Jack spared a glance towards his formidable new ally. He supposed there might be moments in the future, when he'd regret forfeiting the captaincy of the _Dutchman_. But not now. At this moment, there was no ship he'd rather command than his _Pearl_. It felt completely right for them to be together for this- the final act in a long, disturbing drama, which had begun with their forceable separation.

The rigging trembled eagerly under Sparrow's hand, as though the ship herself was sharing his excitement, anticipating an impending triumphant such as occurred in very few lifetimes.

Her captain could understand. / _Beckett abused you cruelly too, didn't he, luv? Took me from you, set you aflame, sank you into cold blackness. 'Twas by his doin' I had ta strike that desperate bargain... trade all I had to give, to get you back. My 'pearl of great price'._ / His fingers caressed the damp rope. /_ Soon, my lass. Soon._ /

The 'Pearl' and 'Dutchman' were closing in alongside the _Endeavour_, still unimpeded by any defensive fire. Sparrow grinned a feral grin.

/ _Caught you by surprise, eh, Mr. Lord Cutler Beckett? You'd have done well to be more careful choosin' yer enemies. Captain Jack Sparrow has had enough o' being a thing fer you to track down, to be kept or killed at yer pleasure. No more'en a beast to you._

/ _Seems to me, though, that the other definition of 'beast'- a vicious, inhuman brute - is one you qualify for better 'en I do._ _So it's especially fittin', here at the end of the hunt, that the roles have turned an' it's me what gets to tame you._ /

"Cap'in?"

"Fire."

...

/ _This tale is over, Beckett. I've won._ /

xxx

**FINIS**


End file.
